Post navigation

Buddha says to his disciples again and again ‘Become an island’ — and by that he means to remain in your aloneness totally.

Just like an island unconnected to anything, just you yourself in your absolute aloneness — then you become an island. And that very possibility of becoming absolutely alone becomes the door to the divine.

If you are related to the world too much, you cannot be related to god. If you are related to things too much, you cannot be related to yourself. If you are related too much without, you cannot be within.

So a feeling of unrelatedness has to be developed, and this is going to help you tremendously. Not that you have to leave all relationship — no, not at all — not that you have to leave your parents, your wife, your child, your friend. Nothing has to be left, just the idea of relationship has to be dropped.

Be with your woman but let there be no idea of relationship. Let there be two alonenesses together, let there be two individuals together, but don’t lose your independence and don’t force the other to lose her independence.

Two islands can be together, very close, but yet they remain islands.

Kahlil Gibran used to say that lovers should be like pillars of a temple: they hold the same roof. In a way they are together and yet far apart.

So be in the world but not of the world; that is the meaning of being an island. Move in the world but unconcerned, unidentified.

The East has developed a symbol for it, the lotus flower — it remains in water but remains untouched by the water. And that is what Buddha means when he says to become an island.
*OSHO*

Remember the joy of coming across a forgotten pressed Rose? A first Valentine memory or a beauty that one wanted to always remember….So one found a book of poetry or whatever it is that one was reading at that time and placed it between the pages and shut the book gently…
And there it lay, a pressed rose, exuding its fragrance and coaxing it into the aging pages of your cherished book, till one day, years later, you chance upon it once again and you drop everything to just sit and reminisce about that small yet beautiful moment in life…

The Open Album
I have a sepia tinted photograph of myself as a little baby sitting on my mother`s lap. It is stuck on the inside wall of my cupboard, its edges curling with the burden of the many decades that it has witnessed. It is the first thing I see when I open my cupboard to select my outfit for the day. I peer into the baby’s face to observe if it has any resemblance to the woman that it has now become. Similarly, I look into my young mothers beautiful face to capture what she has carried forward from her youth. The emotion that fills my heart is quite powerful. It is a mix of nostalgia, gratitude and love. The photograph reasserts to me how many years my mother nourished my body and soul and made me the person I am. It is not something that should ever be forgotten. The presence of the photograph in my cupboard helps me reprioritises my goals in life. It shows me the relentless motion of time and what all it changes in its wake. It also teaches me patience…patience to hold my tongue when my mother slows her speech to choose the right word. Wisdom to tame my impatient hands as she works at her pace to finish a job…My mind becomes clearer, as I mull over what to wear..

Alongside this photograph is one of my fathers, who, in passing away in his forties, remained frozen in all the vitality of youth, smiling his beautiful smile, he looks at me benevolently. I remember so many things about him because of that one photograph. His absence feels less stark, his face not a hazy memory but a clear picture. I remember his love for me and meticulous dressing, his penchant for always being on time, his love for a good joke and a hearty laugh…in his own silent way he still guides me..

The others who form this open album on the side of my cupboard are my immediate and extended family. In looking at their photos I remember to thank God for their presence in my life. I smile at the monkey face my son used to enjoy making and the certain angle my daughter always prefers when being clicked….the photograph of my brothers with their arms protectively around me shows me that the most precious thing in my cupboard is also the most intangible….

These were the two things that I would wait for, make time for. I would look at the exact direction from where the moon would rise and judging by the soft glow emanating from behind the thickly forested hills, know exactly when it would make an appearance. In the darkness of those times when the hills were not inhabitated and street lights didn’t exist, it was the perfect setting to observe natures night life, especially stars and fireflies.

Surrounded by night sounds of crickets and distant cries of jackals, I would settle myself on the corner of the railing and support my back against the wall. Floating life, in the form of fireflies would glide by, they would congregate near some self-chosen bush or tree and do their magical dance, mesmerising me completely.

Between the rising moon and the lively fireflies, the pressure cooker would release it’s steam, reminding me that dinner would not be too long now… I would get down from my perch and head downstairs after having inhaled a huge dose of solitude and beauty that would last a life time….

Todays glorious moonrise reminded me of this…Of course, the only constant was the beauty of the moon. The scene is altered beyond recognition…..